


Earth, After

by eerian_sadow



Series: E.O.D. [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Zombiefest 2013, Zombies, community: zombiefication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one thing no one expected from the Decepticons was the zombie apocaplyse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth, After

**Author's Note:**

> written for Zombie Fest 2013. For purposes of this fic, i’ve assumed that Carly is 20 in her first series appearance (set in 1985) and that Spike was 18 (in 1984). AU that veers off wildly after Carly's first canon appearance.
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt: 478. Transformers (any 'verse) - Any Characters- Most of the time, the zombie uprising was easy to deal with and keep at an emotional distance. Until one of their human friends/allies becomes one of the undead legion.

_June 12, 1989_

_Today, the news outlets all confirmed what the Autobots have known for weeks. They’re calling it the Slow Kill Virus, and even claiming it’s related to the flu, but we know the truth. We know it was one of Shockwave’s experiments gone terribly wrong and accidentally brought back through the space bridge. Because Doctor Arkeville was the first victim we discovered, the science team speculates that he brought it back after Starscream’s cybernetic modifications._

_Spike and I have been to Cybertron since then, though. Perceptor confirmed we were carriers a few days ago. We were immediately quarantined from other humans, but it terrifies me to think that one of us could have given this disease to Sparkplug or any of our other friends._

_That we helped carry this plague back to our own people, no matter how unknowingly, is now something I’m struggling to accept._ We _helped bring this destruction to Earth. We are part of the reason that the human race is steadily dying and coming back as undead._

_I think I need to be sick._

_**From the Diary of Carly Witwicky, 1965-1999** _

 

The zombies had spread with frightening quickness throughout North America. Fortunately, they didn’t possess even a fraction of their old intellignece, so they were easily contained by simple things like fences and walls, or water. The monsters--no one could think of them as “infected humans” anymore--could probably survive under the water, but they weren’t even smart enough to realize that more prey could be found on the other side.

Unfortunately this didn’t spare the rest of the world the ravages, but the surviving uninfected humans could barricade themselves into safer colonies.

And while the humans hid and did their best to simply survive, the Autobots did their best to handle damage control and find a cure. The human race would thin out considerably, but they would have a planet and cities to return to.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Perceptor,” Carly frowned at the readouts on her screen. “Wheeljack and Chip have gotten the test results back from Group Five. The new drug has no affect on the virus at all.”

“Even a negative result is progress.” Despite his reassuring words, the scientist mirrored her frown. “What about the tests in Group Six? Have the subjects shown any sign of infection yet?”

“Not yet, but it’s also not time for the next series of blood tests.” She sighed. “I have high hopes, but we’ve been tricked by this thing before.”

“But never for this long. We may have come up with a functional preventative finally.” Perceptor crossed the room to Carly’s computer console and rubbed a finger along her back comfortingly. “From there, it is a short step to a cure.”

“I hope you’re right. Otherwise, there might not be much humanity left to need a cure.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_I never understood why Carly and Spike decided to get married while all this was going on. Zombies that wanted to eat them for lunch were wandering the planet, it wasn’t safe to even consider children and the Autobots had long considered them a mated couple. The whole ceremony didn’t really make sense, especially since they demanded that everyone attend. Perceptor lost nine hours of research time for it, and for us that’s eternity._

_When it was over, though, Prime had that little smile on his face that said he was really happy. Maybe that was the point all along._

_**Ironhide’s Memoirs, circa 1990** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ironhide was sitting outside the _Ark_ , taking potshots at the small zombie hoard that was always attracted by the handful of humans living inside the ship. The creatures would never be able to get inside and get to them--someone was always on guard at the door and even if they weren’t Red Alert’s security measures would keep the undead _out_ \--but they didn’t have the reasoning ability to understand that. 

Most of his days were like this now: endless boredom punctuated by the brief death cries of the undead. At least they had the decency to die again when their heads were shot off. Most of the Decepticons hadn’t even done the Autobots that courtesy before they hunkered down in the Victory to wait out the death of humanity. Megatron seemed convinced that Optimus would let him strip this world of resources once the dominant species was dead. Ironhide wasn’t sure they would stop him, if humanity died out--they wouldn’t have the spark for it.

If Megatron reappeared at that exact moment, Ironhide wasn’t sure he would have the spark for it. Even if he still had memory loops in recharge, he’d grown used to peace--for a given value of it. The irony that the great Cybertronian civil war had been stopped by reanimated humans was not lost on the old warrior.

He shot another zombie and waited for his relief.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

_I have observed amazing resilience in the human race since the outbreak began. There were the initial panics and riots as fear caused individual though processes to sink into a more primal form, but overall they have handled the disease well. While I think that no one, human or Cybertronian, could possibly deal well with a sudden onslaught of deceased individuals returning to a semi-living state and descending into cannibalism, they have adapted to the situation amazingly. Many of their scientists have come to live in the Autobot compound and their input has been invaluable in our research for a cure. Even more have volunteered to be living test subjects, despite knowing how high the risk of infection will be as we try to find the cure. Something of a trade culture has even emerged. The humans have returned to a sort of barter system, exchanging goods between compounds and services for food or other survival tools._

_During this period, I believe that the Autobots have learned a great deal from them and I hope that we can emulate them when it comes time for us to return to our own world._

_**The Journal of Autobot Perceptor, circa 1989** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Group six _still_ isn’t showing any sign of infection?” Chip studied the slides carefully. “We’ve exposed them to four different strands of the disease now. No other group has successfully fought off infection for so many strains.”

“Yes,” Perceptor agreed, looking over the samples himself. “Group six appears to be incredibly resilient. I wonder if they have always had such robust immune systems or if our preventative regimen is working as we hoped it would.”

"I'm hoping that it means our compound actually works. Do you think we should try direct infection after their next blood draws?"

"Yes, that would be the next logical step. Now, pass me the slides from group two. Let us see if we can discover why the devoloped the infection so quickly."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_The zombie virus proved incredibly resistant to our attempts to cure it, devoloping a number of survival mechanisms to prevent us from purging it from the host body. When I found it hiding inside an otherwise perfectly healthy white blood cell, I knew we were working with something we had no idea how to combat. Strangely, it was Jazz who suggested a new avenue for our research because he had seen something similar eons before._

_**The personal journal of Chip Chase, January 1990** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"As much as it still atounds me, Jazz was right." Wheeljack transmitted a complex schematic to Perceptor and Chip's lab. "It's definitely nanotechnology. Absolutely the sort of thing Shockwave would test on the Human race."

"That would explain how it evaded all our attempts at a cure," Chip nodded slowly. "Any ideas for how to deactivate them?"

"A few, but we'll need a batch of people in various stages of infection." The engineer sounded both elated at finally _knowing_ and as exhausted as the rest of the science team.

"I will make the appropriate arrangements," Perceptor told him. "Please send the remainder of your research notes, so that we may decide on the best course of trials."

"Already on the way." Wheeljack's headfins flashed a cheerful blue. "We'll make Earth safe for the Humans yet."

"I can only hope so, my friend. And that there are Humans left to populate it."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_Some of the other Autobots doubted that the Humans could adapt to this mess, but I always knew. The people that surprised me by adapting so well were the Autobots. Maybe it was just because we've all become jaded by so much death over the vorns, but I hope it's something we learned from our landlords. Something tells me we'll need that ability in the future._

_**Memories of The Great War and Beyond, Autobot Jazz** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"You ready to head out, Sparkplug?" Jazz asked, activating his sensors and checking over the supplies they were preparing to trade to the compound in the Orchard Valley.

The older human looked over the convoy one last time and nodded. "Yep. Looks like everything's loaded and secure."

"Great." Jazz dropped down into his alternate mode and popped his driver's side door open. "Let's go get that fruit."

"I like that plan." Sparkplug settled into the Autobot's interior with a smile. "I've been craving a good, crisp apple since we managed to contact them."

"I bet they'll appreciate this fish just as much."

"Not to mention the fusion powered tractor and the solar powered refrigeration units."

"They're definitely getting the better end of the deal this round." Jazz chuckled. "Hopefully that helps our reputation further out. We need some good PR if we want to bring in more supplies that our compound hasn't had any luck in getting on our own."

"Like chickens? I cannot tell you how much I miss grilled chicken." The Human sighed wistfully as they pulled out. "And pork."

"And ammunition for your rifles so you can hunt wild game again. The possibilities are just about endless, my man."

"I hope so, Jazz. We need something new to look forward to."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_It didn't take long for the Autobots to miniaturize their weaponry for human use. We needed the extra assist in dealing with the zombies and we needed it fast. The zombies were just more than we could handle, even with the number of firearms easily available all over the world. Not that the normal people even knew how to get them, once the gun shops sold out. Dad's military connections were worth their weight in gold in those early days, for him and for his friends. Energy weapons were great for zombies, but they're hell on game animals. You can't eat carbonized deer, no matter how much barbecue sauce you add._

_**From the journal of Spike Witwicky, 1967-1999**_

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

"Perceptor, the first counter nano-virus is ready. Do we have a suitable test pool or do we need to send Hound and Mirage out to capture more infected?" 

The scientist looked up at his human counterpart, with a frown. "Chip, are you well? Your vocal patterns indicate a high level of fatigue." 

"I'm okay, Perceptor. Just working on the program for too long." Chip gave him a weak smile. "I'll go to bed as soon as the first test group is injected. Assuming we have enough of one, that is." 

"It would be wisest to send Hound and Mirage for more specimins first." Perceptor stepped away from his own, slightly more complex, attempt at a counter to the nano-virus. His Human friend barely even protested when the scientist scooped him up, chair and all, and carried him out of the lab. "I will send them. You require sleep." 

"I would have gone on my own," Chip said, already drifting toward sleep as Perceptor carried him to the Humans' wing and his living quarters. 

"Eventually, yes. But you would have likely found at least three more reasons to linger before you finally left." The red mech stopped at his friend's door and keyed it open. "This way, we are both assured you receive sufficient rest." 

"Sure, Perceptor. I'll just..." The Human yawned hugely. "I'll be back in the morning." 

"You will be back after ten hours of rest and at least one meal," Perceptor admonished, setting him down near his bed. "You have been working yourself far too hard." 

"Yes, mom." Chip chuckled softly and wheeled himself closer so he could pull himself into the bed. 

The young man was asleep before he could arrange his legs properly or a pull a blanket over himself. Perceptor smiled at him fondly and tucked him in carefully. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

_"In hindsight, it was the beginning of the end for us._

_**Autobot Ratchet, interview with the New York Times Second Edition, 1999**_

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was always an occasion when one of the trade convoys returned to the Ark, and Spike Witwicky's return from the ranching compounds to the south was no exception. He and the convoy had been gone for over a month, and their return with cattle and red meat in various stages of preperation was highly anticipated. Nearly every Human resident and no few Autobots turned out to welcome the traders home.

Cheers went up through the crowd as the catlle were unloaded--both milk and meat varieties--from Ultra Magnus' trailer. There were twenty head, which was hardly a respectable herd but it was a start.

A second round of cheers went up when Trailbreaker's refrigeration trailer was opened up and choice cuts of beef were carried into the compound's cold storage area. Milk, butter, cheese and chicken eggs--the rarest of commodities among the Ark survivors followed shortly.

Most everyone could already taste the feast that dinner would be.

Spike left the unloading to the rest of his team once the cattle were safely penned and made his way over to his wife. He greeted her with a smile and a kiss, then held her for several long moments. He was as glad to be back home with her as she was.

"Missed you," Spike said softly. "A month away from here was way too long."

"I am never, ever, letting you go out on a trade mission that long again," Carly replied.

"Dad can have all the long ones," The younger Witwicky agreed with a laugh. "So I brought home cows. What have you been up to since I left?"

"Curing lung cancer," she replied casually. "Which is actually the most useful application for any of the counter-viral programs so far."

"No breakthroughs on the zombie issues, though?"

"None. Even Chip and Perceptor are starting to get discouraged."

"But you guys did cure cancer. Nothing to sneeze at there." Spike squeezed his wife comfortingly. "You guys are making progress. Shockwave had more time to build this thing than you've had to find a cure. You will do it."

"I hope it's soon. People don't deserve to live, or unlive, like this."

\---------

_I had always believed the Humans would be the ultimate victims if we did not contain the Decepticons. I had no idea that it was their own natures that would ultimately bring their doom. Had I not allowed them to travel to Cybertron repeatedly in order toassist the Autobots in our war efforts, then Shockwave would never have decided they were a valid threat and taken steps to remove them. Had I not endulged Chip, Spike and Carly years ago, humanity would still be thriving on Earth._

_**Optimus Prime, Autobot leader 1998** _

\---------

"Hey there, Chip!" Jazz grinned as he stepped into the lab. "Skyfire just dropped his latest batch of data from Africa and the stuff First Aid's lady friend has been working on up at NYC."

"Oh, thanks, Jazz." The human smiled tiredly. "Just set it on the console at Perceptor's station. He can scan it in a lot faster than I can."

"Nah, it's on data chips this time." The saboteur fanned them out like brightly colored cards. "Point me at a computer and I'll upload it for you. Save all of you some time."

"Sounds great." Chip pointed at the computer next to his station. "You can use that one. You upload and I'll sort and file."

"All right." The mech stepped up to the computer and inserted the first of the data chips. "Sky's on his way down south to Longhorn to pick up the data Prowl's team has assembled, too. You and Perceptor gonna be awake enough to process everything?"

"I'll be fine. I just haven't slept well the last couple nights."

Jazz did his best not to frown at the exhaustion he could hear in the human's voice. "If that keeps up, make sure you get in to see Ratchet. Lack of sleep does bad things to a human being."

"I promise, Jazz. I'll see Ratchet if it gets worse." Chip smiled again. "I'm sure it's just anxiety. We've had so many near successes."

"Y'all will hit the real deal soon." Jazz ejected the first chip and sent the data to Chip's console. He stayed silent as he inserted the second, letting Chip relax a bit.

He pretended not to notice when the scientist fell asleep at his station.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_(Interviewer) "Didn't you ever worry that the zombie virus would never be cured?"_

_(Autobot Prowl) "Yes. All the time. I had to, because none of the others could accept any other option._

_(Interviewer) "Why?"_

_(Autobot Prowl) "Because the other Autobots believe the best will always happen. It is my job to plan for the worst."_

_(Interviewer) "What would you have done, if no cure was found?"_

_(Autobot Prowl) "There are some questions that you do not want the answers to."_

_**Angel Long Interviews Autobot Prowl, an exerpt, 2001** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The video feed took an insane amount of energy to run, so they didn't do it often. It had been over a year since the last time the human scientists working on the anti-virus teams had been given any real time communication access, something the Autobots regretted the moment they saw how happy Chip was to see Doctor Chan in New York.

In fact, the humans using the video screens were all happier. Blaster made a note to store up some batteries for future use--they needed this kind of morale boost more often.

They spoke animatedly, trading information and personal information and reconnecting in a way that letters and file transfers hadn't allowed them. Even Chip was looking less like he was working himself to death and more like his usual, cheerful self.

"Wait," Carly said. "You haven't successfully infected a _single_ non-human species with the virus?"

Even the non scientific minds in the room perked up at that.

"Not a single one," Doctor Chan replied. "Not even when we directly injected samples of the nano-virus."

"We are hoping to replicate their research on some of the primate species that are closer to the human genome," said a member of Skyfire's team in Africa--an English woman Blaster didn't know by name. "They are provingbharder to catch than we had imagined, though. They learned from their human neighbors' mistakes and took to the trees. And anywhere else they can hide."

"Maybe we'll get lucky around here," Chip said. "I know a lot of the zoos released their animals when the zombies started outnumbering the living. Seemed better to let them take their chances than starve in cages."

"Well, I wish you better luck than we've had." The English woman chuckled. 

"Thanks. I know just the mech to send out to track them." Chip grinned and made a note on the tablet he was holding.

"Sounds excellent. Make sure you keep us appraised." The English scientist was smiling as well. "Now, I have been wondering about your success at raising foods. I understand that North America has a compound devoted solely to the raising of cattle?"

Blaster smiled as the humans began talking about food. He opened a private comm to Hound as they chatted, letting him know that the science team would have a job for him soon. Then he settled back and let his friends' good moods shore up his own.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_Like fools, we believed we were safe with the Autobots at our backs. We thought that we would be protected, as long as we stood in their shadows, even from this._

_I can only look back now and marvel at how incredibly foolish we all were._

_**Doctor Amelia Chan, New York Compound** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hound and Mirage wasted no time in acquiring the specimins the science department wanted. The primates hadn't been able to hide from Hound's advanced sensors and Mirage's invisibilty and stealth modifications kept them confused about his location until it was too late. They brought back a troop of four chimpanzees and several other primates of various sizes.

The first blood samples infected with the virus showed a marked resistance to the virus, but in the chimpanzees there was no immunity. It took longer, but the nano-virus took over the blood cells before they died.

They cancelled all plans for live testing among the troop. It would be heartless to subject the chimpanzees to the virus, when they knew the results would be the same as in human subjects.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_I'm worried about the kids. The Autobots are used to this kind of slow-paced, long haul project, but the kids aren't. Ship and Carly have been working on this thing for almost ten years now, non-stop. No other projects, no distractions and only the occational teleconference to keep them sane. I don't know about the other scientists in New York or Texas or Kenya or where ever, but my kids are close to snapping. It's not going to take much to break them, either._

_**Sparkplug Whitwicky's journal, 1998** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"The key," Perceptor said, "Is not going to be to convince the nano-virus it is non-viable. It is going to be convincing it that the _host_ is non-viable."

"Wait." Carly held up a hand. "You mean we've spent all this time trying to cure the virus, and now we're just... going to tell it we're not human after all?"

"Precisely."

"That's not even possible!"

"No, Carly, he's right!" Wheeljack's headfins lit up a bright blue as he made the connection. "The nano-virus only works because it knows the difference between human genes and non-human ones. That's why the chimps can catch it--the virus can't find enough differences between them and you because your genetic codes are so close. But if we can fool the virus into thinking you're not human anymore it'll go dormant!"

"We have to stop treating it like an organic virus." Chip nodded slowly. "Each microbe is a complex AI, and we have to fight one program with another!"

"Correct!" Even Perceptor was grinning. "We were conducting our research along the wrong avenues, even after we knew Shockwave had engineered machines that acted like a virus."

"Maybe we should try a few simple things first then," Carly said toughtfully. "Like an EMP blast to shut them down or specific radio frequencies."

"You and Perceptor do that." Chip pulled out the data pad that Wheeljack had built to replace his laptop. "Wheeljack and I will get started with the hard stuff."

For the first time in years, the science team left their morning meeting feeling like they really would cure the virus.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_We discovered that, once the virus was dispersed to a significant portion of the population, uninfected carriers stopped passing the disease. It was the strangest behavior we had ever seen in a virus, but it makes perfect sense in hindsight. Shockwave designed the virus to strike directly at us and at our allies in the worst possible way. Turning the nanobots off once the virus was loose helped ensure that they all survived long enough to see the damage without infecting each other._

_Shockwave is an absolute sadist, but he's a sadist who thinks things all the way through._

_**Autobot Wheeljack, personal journal 1998** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"I'm _what_?" Carly stared at the medic in front of her.

"Pregnant," Ratchet replied. "Six weeks along, give or take a day."

"I absolutely cannot be pregnant," the human said firmly. "I just... I can't be! We can't have a baby now!"

"You can and you are." Ratchet held the test results in front of her. "Zombies or no zombies."

"Oh, God." Carly buried her face in her hands. "Now what do I do?"

"I suggest telling your husband," the medic replied mildly.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_We found out, in the most frightening way possible, that Amelia was immune on February Ninth. After the zombie attack, I held her for seventy two hours without seeing a single symptom of the disease. Her skin rotted away from the wound, similar to the effects of a brown recluse spider bite, and she lost most of the use of her right hand as a result of nerve damage--but she survived._

_She_ survived _, and the genetic abnormality that allowed her to do so proved to be the missing element in the anti-virus._

_**First Aid, Protectobot Medic** _

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Hey, Chip!" Spike grinned and waved as he leaped down from Optimus' trailer. 

"Hey, Spike." The human scientist smiled weakly and didn't return his friend's enthusiastic wave. "How was the trip?"

"Very profitable." Spike waved at the humans and Autobots on his team to continue unloading without him as he approached the other man. "Lots of young fruit trees that will be ready to produce next season and a flock of ten geese. How have things been here?"

"Quiet." Chip chuckled softly. "Wheeljack went with Skyfire up to NYC to look at Amelia's test results in real time. It seems so incredible that she's been immune all this time."

"It's a damn miracle is what it is. What about you? How have you been?"

The older man gestured weakly toward himself. "What you see is what you get. Whatever this is, it's kicking my ass."

"Damn, Chip, I'm sorry." Spike crouched down in front of his friend. "I thought you were getting better."

"We all did. It's just time, I guess." Chip sighed, a long shuddering sound. "It was... always... possible..."

"Chip?" The younger man did his best not to panic as his friend's words trailed off and Chip's head lolled forward. Carefully, Spike reached forward to check the other man's pulse. "Chip?"

He had only a moment to flinch at how _cold_ Chip was. Then the other man lunged forward with a snarl and sank his teeth into Spike's face. 

Spike screamed as his flesh tore and he heard his cheekbone crack. He struggled to pull away from the zombie that had been his friend, but the zombie kept its teeth clenched on his bone and refused to let go. His panic increased as the zombie wrapped it's hands around his arms and _pulled him closer_. He screamed again, nearly choking on the blood he sucked into his mouth when he breathed in, and scrabbled his feet against the ground trying to find enough leverage to pull away.

Over the top of his screams, Spike heard the distinctive report of Ironhide's pistol. Then the world went black.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_Of all the things I tested him for, I never thought to test for the Primus-damned nano-virus._

_**Autobot Ratchet, 1999** _


End file.
